Postcard From Mykonos
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Beyond my Grecian villa walls of stone
a great bridge does cross the river’s divide,
and the Maroochy water’s gentle groan
concentrates my mind betwixt moon and tide.
Where over burning canefields black soot ash
on an east wind past my balustrade blows,
and big pelicans the riverine splash
their pink dive pouch longbills in the shallows.
And when the sun is low and the moon high
just sit back on my porch as oft I do -
sipping a tincture of scotch in my dry
puffing a cigar on the avenue.
And fishermen in the Cod Hole across
sit reeling in their boats off Mykonos.
Written: October 1999
Copyright © Keith D Trestrail | Year Posted 2022
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